Dear Forge
by Rayniekinnz
Summary: 'Dear Forge, it has been eight years since we last met.' Round 6 submission for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.


**Written for Round 6 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition! **

**Team**: Montrose Magpies  
**Position**: Chaser 2  
**Prompts**: [word] **1. **Lonesome/ [word]** 6**. Old/ [quote] **5.** "I always find it more difficult to say the things I mean than the things I don't" – W. Somerset Maughan  
**Beta-read:** by my teammates! Thanks FF, Jordi and Ciara!

* * *

_Dear Forge,_

_It has been eight years since we last met. _

_I suppose this doesn't sound like long to you, a dead man, but to me, your very much alive brother, it has been an eternity. Well – breathing; I'm tempted to say I died along with you sometimes._

_I don't dare tell anyone this._

_They would send me away to St. Mungos or that place in Moscow we joked about once. Mum would lose her feet again and Dad would try to have more 'talks' with me. I suppose the brain-shrinks are right and I should talk about you, my feelings and my fears, but I know they will never understand._

_They never understood us. _

_Mum was always telling us to grow up, but I've never felt so old. _

_I'm doing alright. Ron helps out at the shop when he doesn't have training – he's going to become an Auror, did you know? – and Ginny is always stopping by with little James. Harry is good fun too, when he has the time._

_I suppose you're wondering why I'm writing to you – it's not as if we ever wrote to each other when you were alive, anyway. It was our little brother-in-law's idea, believe it or not. _

_I won't tell you exactly what he said to make me want to do this, it was pretty personal and you probably already know, but it's what he does when he wants to remember someone. Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, his parents and even Snape. He just takes out some parchment and writes a whole long spiel on the day that he has designated as _theirs_. He writes to you, too._

_It sounded pretty lonesome and all I could think of was that quote by Maughan Something or Another – "I always find it more difficult to say the things I mean than the things I don't". I think that's how it goes, anyway. Hermione doesn't even recall the book she read it to us from._

_Harry agreed, when I told him. He said it was worth it though; the embarrassment of having to tell them, indirectly or not, the content of his heart. I decided to give it a go._

_It's ironic the first letter I've ever written to you was when you were so far away not even a Malfoy's owl would make the journey. You remember that ugly storm-breaker that delivered Ickle Draco's mail, don't you? He's finally found himself too – Draco, not the owl. The owl was too far up its own arsehole to know it was missing. Sort of like Draco before the war. _

_I'm getting off topic, aren't I? I don't really know what to say, really. What is there to say? I love you, I miss you and I wish you were here? I was never good with 'words' – Angelina says her dog is more eloquent._

_Oh. Angelina. I've stolen your girl, bro. Mum had a fit…she said I was disrespecting you and she threatened to have Aurors come to take Angie off the property, but Ginny managed to calm her down. I also thought that, in the beginning…I wondered if you'd hate me for being so heartless as to woo your first love. You had always said your relationship failed because you two were too alike, that you argued more than you had fun, but those were lies – weren't they, brother? _

_I wondered if you knew, back then. Did you foresee dying, and perhaps leaving her all alone? Did you purposely let her go, knowing she would fall into my arms? _

_It wasn't like that, obviously. It wasn't on purpose either, us getting together. I was stubborn at first, I thought it was unhealthy – did she want me for your face, did I want her because she had something of yours that could never die? _

_We have a son, believe it or not. Me, who declared marriage and children a hassle. He was named after you, naturally, though I've taken to calling him something else – I won't say what though, it'd ruin the fun if I just _told_ you, don't you think? He's beautiful – takes after his mum though, rolling his eyes at me at barely a year old. That piece of apricot I found in my pocket last night proves he'll become a great prankster however, so I'm not too worried._

_I guess you're wondering about the others now? Did they get married and start making snot-bags too? I mentioned earlier about Ginny and James – her and Harry's first-born, born two years ago. They'll be having another soon – they're fighting about names, 'Severus' or 'Albus', but I personally think not even Snape would be so heartless as to give a child the name he was stuck with. I told Harry he'd be raising a little street-rat, but I don't think he got the reference. I wouldn't have, before being talked into baby-sitting Angie's nieces. I'll let you figure that out, too._

_Ronniekins became the father of a little mini-me – of Hermione, however. Percy is a proud father too, as well as ol' Billie; though Charlie is still surrounding himself with his dragons. Between you and me, I think he's with someone at the reserve and is just too embarrassed to bring them home to meet mum and dad – believe me, if we weren't theirs and proud of it, I'd also be scared._

_I probably sound ungrateful, saying I'm only doing 'okay' when I have a wife, a child and I'm surrounded by people who love me. It's more than you'll ever have – and that's what gets to me. People are always saying death takes you to a better place and maybe it does, but all I can think of is your body rotting in the ground while I'm _living_. We are—_were_ twins, we did everything together and now it's just 'George' and it's been nearly a decade since your death and I'm still lost. _

_I'm getting better though. For you and for mum, for our siblings and my wife and son. Ever since he was born I've been trying to really change and you know, I think it _is_ working. I don't dread getting up in the morning anymore and even if I still can't celebrate our birthday outside the graveyard, one day I might be able to get home before Mum gives up and just leaves the cake in the fridge._

_That's where I am now – sitting beside your headstone and using one of Ginny's old diaries to write in. It's a right miserable day, but if you look hard enough the sun is peeking out from behind the clouds and the rain is starting to let up. I'm tempted to say some shite about the weather reflecting my emotions…I won't though, because you'd probably laugh in my face, dead or not._

_Don't worry, I'd do the same._

_I have so much to say, but I'm running out of space. I suppose I'll just keep coming back until I've said it all – it might take years, a century even…I know how you hate being left in the dark, so consider this your next hundred birthday presents. _

_Don't get too lonely, okay?_

_Your brother,  
__Gred_


End file.
